


Kiss With A Fist

by accidentalrambler



Series: And We Let It Burn [4]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Height Differences, Nessian - Freeform, height difference kink, post acomaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidentalrambler/pseuds/accidentalrambler
Summary: She always needs to pull him down by the neck to kiss him properly. Aka a drabble where my height difference kink is showing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for reposting this, I'm trying to organize all my acomaf drabbles and put them into series.

The first time she kisses him, it’s in a fit of anger.

They’ve just started sparring together - because his wings are freshly healed and she’s still coming to terms with her new powers and what happened at Hybern. And according to Rhys it makes sense for them to train together - a mischievous glint in the High Lord’s eyes as he says it to Cassian.

_Stupid Illyrian prick._

He can see Nesta struggling to keep her powers in, to control them, each hit she fails to block making a crack in the walls she’s built around herself. Their breathing becomes heavier and heavier just as the air around them grows thicker. Cassian cannot help but admire the her eyes, their colour vibrant with rage that’s yet to be unleashed, her dishevelled hair framing her face like a crown.

She might be young and inexperienced but it doesn’t make her an unworthy opponent. Quite the opposite - whatever he throws at her, she takes and gives back everything she has in her, her strikes strong and determined.

He misses a step and she takes advantage of it with agile ruthlessness.   
His back is against the wall before he realizes what’s happened, her rugged breathing hot against his chest and Cassian’s trying to move but her hands _burn_ on his skin.

“Nesta.” Her name feels like some unearthly player on his lips.

She swallows it with a kiss.

He’s so much taller than Nesta, her head fitting right under his chin - but she pounces on him, bringing his mouth to hers while her legs lock around his hips.

There’s a small laugh escaping his throat but she silences him by sinking teeth in his lower lip.

_Vicious little thing._

Next day, he has Rhys teasing him about the nail marks on his neck and shoulders and this strange little bite he’s got in the corner of his mouth.

Cassian finds that he doesn’t mind the teasing. One bit.

 

* * *

 

 

Their kisses turn longer and longer and it worries Nesta sometimes. More so, because it makes her notice these little things about him, like the slight furrowing of his eyebrow when he reigns in his anger or the gravelly note in his laugh when he trivializes his own pain.

It tugs at this thread deep within her, calls to some primal need deep in her bones.

She’s not supposed to _like_ the Fae male.

But now there’s a library in the House of Wind that’s seen Nesta perched up on a desk - finally at perfect height with standing Cassian - and melting in the man’s arms more than once.

There’s also the kitchen they sneak into at night, along with a perfectly comfortable counter, its surface pleasantly cool against her body as she wraps her legs around him.

And there’s a window sill in her bedroom where -

The memory pulls a wave of heat in her belly.

He doesn’t treat her like a gentle little thing when she’s anything but and he seems to like the way she fits nicely tucked under his chin. He appreciates how anytime she yearns a kiss, she needs to physically drag his head down to meet her lips - an amused smirk curling his mouth as soon as she presses onto his neck with her hand.

A smirk that very much needs to be kissed off his face.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Feyre smiles after her return from the Spring Court is when she sees Nesta sneaking her way into the dining room for her welcome party exactly five minutes after Cassian walked in.

The neckline of her dress is crooked and there are far too many loose curls falling off her updo for it to be on purpose. And Cassian’s no better with his hair mussed and a little tear in the collar of his shirt.

Feyre notices how the general’s gaze naturally flickers to her sister the moment she appears, the way they gravitate towards each other throughout the night, only to pull away and back together again - her lips stretching in a gentle smile when for once, she recognizes the signs.

What a beautiful mating dance.


End file.
